Time for a story:
When I was in junior high, I deeply believed that the height of fashion was wearing this long wrap skirt that was printed to look like a purple bandana, which I paired with my purple Converse high-tops and a liberal amount of body glitter. Sometimes I wore an actual bandana with it.
While I'm probably not as chic as I thought I was in the 8th grade, I still sometimes try to try new things, fashion-wise. For example, earlier this year I decided to try on this cute dress at Forever 21. Even though the dress was bright blue, I thought it would be nice to branch out from my grey, black, and maroon wardrobe and try something new.
It was a disaster.
Although the top fit fine, the skirt was so tight that I could barely fit my legs into it. There was a bunch of extra floppy fabric around my waist, and the whole thing just looked weird and bunchy. "I'm a monster," I told my reflection.
That's when I had the epiphany.
The "skirt" part I'd forced myself into was in fact, one leg of a romper.
I'd trapped myself in a romper.
It was kind of a low point, although with the experience behind me, I can say that inadvertently trying on a romper is a lot like drinking wine. Sometimes with wine, you can be so sure that you're going to taste a certain flavor, that you almost close yourself off to tasting anything different.
To be honest, this happened with the Tarima Monastrell. But let's back up...
Monastrell is a Spanish varietal, but it's known as Mourvedre in a lot of the world. When I first heard of Monastrell/Mourvedre, it was mainly used as a blending grape. In case you're wondering what a blending grape is, it's a grape that if you make it into wine on its own, it's... just okay. Winemakers will often use blending grapes to round out a wine blend, because they fill in the spaces, and help the wine taste more balanced by adding acidity, smokiness, whatever.
Alhtough Mourvedre is still used as a blending grape in a lot of French wines, In the case of Monastrell, people are starting to realize that it's pretty great on its own (to be fair, the Spaniards realized this before we did...). Typically Monastrell has a really "savory" taste, i.e. it tends to smell more like herbs and coffee and pepper. I once had one that smelled exactly like bacon. I'm not kidding.
So basically when I tried the Tarima, I was expecting savory. I couldn't figure out why I wasn't smelling tarragon or the "earthiness" that's associated with a lot of these wines. Which was when I had what I've now started to refer to as a "romper epiphany." Just because I wasn't smelling something in the wine didn't mean I was a crazy person —it just means wine is a subjective thing. Sometimes a person might smell something that others don't. It's not wrong, it's just different.
Which, technically I knew, but it's nice to be reminded. So with that in mind, this wine smells like blueberries. It's fairly fruity for a Monastrell, but honestly, it makes it really delightful and really drinkable, which in my personal opinion, makes for a great wine. I love the color as well— it's a little less than the traditional "true reds" you see in things like Cabs. It's got a rust-ish tone to it.
OUR RATING: Suprisingly fruity, full-bodied wine. Fairly light on tannins but heavy on flavor. Perfect for cooler weather.
I'D DRINK THIS:
While watching the Grinch. Bonus points if your friends can quote it from memory like mine can.
While getting ready for a Christmas party. Not like, the wine you drink while at the party, but like, the pre-wine wine.
Before exploring the downtown holiday market. Also before buying like ten handcrafted holiday tea towels or something.
With a fancy cheese and meat plate that you refer to as "charcuterie" even though you bought everything at Kroger.